I feel a strong connection with my Jewish grandparents on Hannukah each year. The smell of the colorful wax melting as I light the bottom of the candles to fuse them into the menorah transports me back in time.
I can see my Grandmother smiling, hand on hip, watching me. When my sons recite the blessings, it feels like a sacred invocation, welcoming them to surround us with light. I feel my Gandfather’s intense gaze on them, proud they uphold this tradition.
With so many people yearning for the presence of their passed loved ones, I believe the holiday season is a time when the Spirit World is closest to us. In the past, this hasn’t always felt comforting to me.
The first Christmas after my friend Josh died, I was visiting my ex-husband's family in Ohio. It was the first holiday I had not spent with my own family.
Christmas morning, I woke up from a dream of Josh. He was sitting alone in a room, and I could feel how much he missed his family. The grief I felt was consuming. I couldn't stop myself from crying and wasn't able to leave my room for almost an hour after waking up. I was inconsolable, worried that Josh was alone and that he was missing his family.
I didn't know anything about grief at the time—the waves it came in, the energy it took. How stuffing it back down would only lead to a dense block of painful emotions that would be waiting for me in the future.
I was newly engaged then and had gone off to spend the holidays with near strangers. I was trying to be a guest in someone else's home during Christmas while dealing with a loss. Energetically, it was a disaster.
I have learned so much about tending to grief in the last 25 years, how to create circumstances that support me, and how to support others with their grief.
How to surrender to the wave of emotion when I must.
This year, I read Julia Alvarez’s novel ‘Afterlife’ and am still haunted by how she talks about “taking careful sips of grief.”
From the chapter ‘Here Be the Dragons’:
“She is keeping to her routines, walking a narrow path through the loss—not allowing her thoughts to stray. Occasionally, she takes sips of sorrow, afraid the big wave might wash her away.”
Four things that can help when you’re missing a loved one over the holidays:
Spend some time with people who get it
“It's coming on Christmas,
They're cutting down trees.
Putting up reindeer
Singing songs of joy and peace,
Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on.”
I wonder, what does it say about me that ‘River’ by Joni Mitchell is one of my favorite Christmas songs?
I recently read an article debating whether this song was actually a Christmas song.
I feel held and understood by this song, as many do. The message I take is that it’s okay if holidays make you want to “teach your feet to fly.”
The only thing worse than grieving over the holidays is having to pretend that you’re not. Spending time with people who will listen, be there, or let you vent can be soul-nourishing.
If you have a friend who’s experienced a recent loss, consider being that soft space for them to share. Sometimes, grief plays tricks on the mind, telling us we are a burden. Grieving people need to hear that their feelings are welcome.
Find ways to be present
I notice my loved ones closest when I am experiencing emotions. When I’m looking through old photographs and letting the tears flow, or walking hand in hand with Rachel, picking out a Christmas tree. They are closest in joy and sadness. But, what I’ve noticed the most is that it’s not necessarily the strong emotions that bring the feelings of them closer; it’s being present.
Sometimes, grief shuts down our ability to be present. Out of survival, we take it in those small sips. Over time, with care, we can feel our loved ones closest when we are present and available.
Plan something to look forward to and stick to it
My self-care over the holidays is making a few plans with friends and sticking to them. I am forever an advocate of honoring our capacity and canceling when you need to. The question I try to ask myself is, “Will you feel better afterward if you keep these plans?” If the answer is yes, I do what I can to push myself, and I’m usually grateful I do.
Find a way to honor them
Last year, I taped pictures of my Jewish ancestors on the kitchen wall as I lit the menorah. Seeing their faces in the candlelight felt like a way to bring them into the traditions passed down through generations. So many of you shared with me that you do something similar: create altars, light candles next to photos of passed loved ones or leave offerings. Incorporating your loved ones' favorite foods or activities, movies, or songs into the holiday brings comfort.
Do you have a ritual to honor passed loved ones?
Whatever you decide to do or not do, know that your loved ones hold you with unconditional love and understanding. They are close to you, and they can hear you when you speak to them.
Sending you peace and light,
Sheryl
P..S. I’m excited to share with you a new feature of this newsletter. I’m adding an advice column to The Electric Curtain called A Peek Behind the Veil, where you can submit anonymous questions to be answered in the newsletter.
For those that have already submitted questions, thank you! I plan to answer and publish it in the newsletter next week or over the holidays.
You can submit your question anonymously here.
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